Master Who
by Sarshi
Summary: Three Doctors: 9th, 10th, 11th. All three drunk. Rose, Donna, Amy, Rory. All of whom trying to get the Doctor less drunk in time to save the world. Two other Time Lords, of which one is the Master. Also, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. Crack.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Sherlock or Doctor Who. I'm quite certain BBC does. I think. Maybe. It would make sense if it did. Erm.

**AN: **I really hope you can excuse my use of an OC in this story. I know they're frowned upon in fanfics, but frankly? The actual Doctor Who show and the expanded universe do it all the time. You can deal with it.

**AN 2: **This happens in the same universe as the short story "Sherlock Wholmes, the Doctor and Whatson". But that's just a by the way, not something amazingly relevant.

**To: **silverrosekitsuneinu from over on dA. She caught my kiriban (pageview number) there and requested this as a prize. Well, maybe not the way I'm doing it, but the plot got a bit away from me.

**Prologue**

She kicked the controls hard, her heel breaking on contact with one of the levers, flying through the air and falling on the floor some way away. But she didn't notice the damage to her boots.

"Come on, come _on_, you _stupid_ and _wonderful_ piece of _crappy, brilliant_ machinery! COME _ON!_" She swapped away at an escaping strand of hair. "I _loathe_you," she growled. But it might just as well have been "I _love_ you," neither her feelings or her pronunciation being particularly clear at that moment.

The TARDIS shook. She lost her footing and slammed down her heelless boot, which further unbalanced her. She grabbed one of the pillars on her way towards the floor, swore again and got back to her feet, ripping the second heel away to make the boots equal.

She briefly considered turning off the gravitational device and solving issues that way, but if there was one thing she had drilled into all of her students and which she herself would never discard, it was this one: when in crisis, do not remove the symptoms of said crisis. Tension was good for keeping you alert.

But the shaking was becoming worse and worse. She looked ahead of her, as if speaking to a physical incarnation of the trouble. "I will not die," she said decisively. "I _won't_!"

She kicked the gravitational device off and all the trembling stopped. She fell on the ground in relief, her hearts finally catching up with the excitement, her muscles relaxing instantly. She could feel the tiredness seep down into the floor from her body and her eyes closed.

Yes, this was the feeling she wasn't allowed to have, she thought, just as her body demanded that she waited just another minute. Perhaps a nap would be in order, too.

She reached towards a button and clicked on her music device. When lacking symptoms of crisis in a crisis, one must emulate them.

The singing started. She picked herself up in the ominous sound of a whispering quire and instruments that sounded like an approaching swarm of killer bees that had destroyed planets. There were church bells and occasional drums and the general feeling that the Devil himself was sitting behind you, breathing down your neck more literally than he should.

_Life is dying, all life is dying, stars are extinguishing, I can hear the voices crying, I can see the weeping angels flying, hail, hail, hail, living hell._

Bad poetry. Horrid poetry. But correct in its verses. She took a single second to appreciate her own appropriateness, inhaling deeply. She was an Artist. Then she opened her eyes and reality came back with a whirl.

She kicked the TARDIS again with all her strength. "MOVE!" She'd be lucky to escape this. _Very_ lucky.

Her mind flew to the one person who could possibly have caused this. "_Doctor._"

* * *

**AN: Reviews are nice.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Sherlock and Doctor Who, I'd skip this part.

**AN: **As promised, 1 chapter/day, right? :D

**Chapter 1**

"Doctor!"

The first thing he noticed when he looked up was that she had the air of a person who had tried to gain his attention through all decent methods and was just about to move to less decent methods. It didn't help to see Rory heading towards him with a bucket containing what seemed to be icy water.

"...Yeah?" he ventured.

"Where are we going? And what's with that look on your face?... The one that says it's either Christmas or the Apocalypse?"

"Ah, well, see, I'm not entirely certain if this is correct," he said, noticing Rory put down the bucket, thus confirming his hunch, "but! _If_ I'm not much mistaken, there's at least one other Time Lord around."

She jumped closer to him. Rory looked at the bucket, considered, then gave up on it and moved closer, too.

"I thought you said they were all dead," Amy said with an I-demand-an-explanation-now frown.

"Well, one of them apparently isn't," the Doctor said.

"What, like... he came back to life or something?" Rory asked.

"Or time-traveled," Amy suggested. "All your people can do that, right?"

"No. No time-traveling. They're all dead. Or, at least, they're supposed to be. There was a time war and, well..."

"You're the only one who survived."

The Doctor paused to ponder on that. "Well, no, not really. I thought I was. But there was somebody else, I met him not long ago."

"Then what happened?"

"He died."

"How?"

"In the Time War. Sort of."

"You mean, after everybody else died and it was already over?"

"Sort of."

"That doesn't make sense."

"...Well... Long story. Listen! The point _is_, it can't be him. Unless it is. He was dead before and then came back, but I don't think it's him. Unless it is. But I still have to go check why he's back. Unless it isn't him. And try to stop him from doing whatever he's doing. Or not."

"Why?" Amy asked.

"Because whatever he's doing is usually bad."

"Let me guess. Unless it isn't."

"Exactly."

The Doctor gently twisted a few levers here and there, trying to figure out where and when whomever it might be was – or wasn't.

* * *

"Pockets!" Donna said, cheerfully. "I never get clothes without them nowadays."

The Doctor just nodded. He could feel something strange in the air, something mysterious, something familiar, something horrible, something wonderful. They were playing with his mind, torturing him and making him both blissfully happy and horribly frightened. It couldn't be true, but he felt it, he could sense it in every cell of his body.

"Somebody is back," he said.

"What?" Donna asked, then, nothing his far away look, tried to guess. "Is it your lost friend?"

But the Doctor had that strange, serious expression on his face and wouldn't answer.

* * *

"You should see ," the Doctor told Rose, trying to adjust his leather jacket which had been nearly torn apart by a species of predators that had a lot in common with both tigers and dogs.

"What?" she asked. "Like in Mary Poppins?"

"No, that would be Supercallifragilisstt-" He stopped mid-sentence.

"What?" she asked. "Doctor, what is it?"

"Oh, Rose... It's... But this is fantastic!" He said, his face splitting slowly into a grin.

* * *

Sherlock looked up from his book and unto the thing in the middle of the room, not amazingly impressed.

"John!" he cried.

"Yeah?" the other man answered from the kitchen.

"Forget the food, there's an alien in our living room."

The woman who had just come out of the wardrobe had opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and looked around. She noticed the shape of the thing behind her and frowned at it. "I hate it when it does children's stories' elements," she said to herself.

"It's one who can actually _drive_," Sherlock explained as John came in, gaping for the both of them.

"Oh?" she said, taking her attention away from the wardrobe. "You've met the man who comes announced by a sound as of tortured piano strings?"

"Yeah, he was here two weeks ago..." John started.

"Great. I have to strangle him for something, perhaps you can help." She grinned at them.

Sherlock noticed that, despite her well-groomed appearance, her boots were entirely heelless, despite the fact that no shoes ever were that. Especially not for women. There were marks on them, a few scratches here and there, but mostly towards the front of the shoes, suggesting that they had been used for kicking. Perhaps a broken heel that had been there balanced by ripping off the other one? He remembered the Doctor's TARDIS and the fact that it had more rooms than one actually needed and an extensive wardrobe. Judging by her well-groomed appearance, she probably had the same sort of wardrobe. Hence, she had been in much trouble recently, which hadn't allowed her to switch the boots for better ones. Her choice of words suggested some urgency in finding the Doctor, but not a great level of it – the danger had then passed, but not for a long time. It looked... domestic. Not at all exciting. Nothing to figure out, really.

"I don't do murders. Well. Not from that perspective, anyway." Sherlock picked up his book again.

"I'm sorry, but, who are you?" John asked.

"I'm the Professor. Now. Take me to the Doctor. I haven't been around in awhile, but it would seem our whole race is dead and I highly doubt it was a _plague _that did it."

Sherlock let down his book. "Interesting. John, get my coat."

**AN: **There. Chapter done. Review?


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **A wave of devastation will not be tolerated.

**Disclaimer's disclaimer: **Actually, that's a line from a Shiro Sagisu song.

**Real disclaimer: **I don't own Doctor Who or Sherlock.

**AN: **Sorry for the delay in writing this chapter. I got sick. You don't want me writing when I'm sick.

**Chapter 2**

When Sherlock, John and the Professor walked out of the TARDIS (which was an 'inconspicuous' big, brown box) into the study of that one person who could take them to the Doctor (Sherlock had remembered her mentioned when he had been pretty much kidnapped by said Doctor and made to figure out what the cause of the destruction of the Universe was), they were greeted with something that might have been a combination of enthusiasm and awe, had the intensity of those feelings not been off all possible scales.

"Oh my God, it's you!" River Song cried, gaping like fish. "You're _the Professor_!"

"I am known and recognized, therefore I have reached the right place," the other woman said, taking out a pair of glasses and placing them decisively on her nose. "Professor River Song, I presume."

"Why, yes. I've fought very hard to obtain this position so that I could be called 'Professor', like yourself. You're extraordinary!"

"Do you know you've just said that out loud?" John asked. Sherlock gave him a look. John saw it, the idea behind it took a second to register, then the shorter man tried to blend in with the surroundings and get that line forgotten.

"Oh?" The Professor was just a tiny little bit flattered.

"You were such an influence with the Doctor!"

"Was I." It wasn't a question. It was a sarcastic remark. "I don't think it ever showed. Anyway, between ourselves, we have come to the conclusion that you are the person most likely to contact said Doctor. How do you usually get about to doing it?"

"I usually graffiti something in a place where he's bound to see it." River said, having the air of somebody who might realize how strange that sounds, but prefers not to.

"_Clever_," the Professor said. "And risky. You never know when your message might get destroyed or how. Time, _Professor_ Song, is the sort of thing that one can never trust. Even fixed points are flexible. That we call them 'fixed' is only because they are taboo for us to change. If you are under an unfortunate star, a time traveler can mess them up and rewrite history."

"Then what do you suggest?" River tried to compose herself. She really did.

"Oh, I don't know. Something complicated." The Professor paused for awhile, thinking, then said, in a skeptical voice. "I don't suppose he happened to have a manifestation of the time vortex about him at any time that you know of, _Professor _Song?"

"Actually..."

* * *

As she was taken over by the Time Vortex, a small part of Rose was unaware that more was done through herself than she might have wanted to. There were many 'Bad Wolf' signs that she scattered across time and space willingly, but one of them was a tiny parasitical sign that would appear in the TARDIS itself. It said, because the Professor had a strange sense of humor, 'Bad Bloody Beast'.

The aforementioned Time Lady pressed a button that would summon the Doctor into River's office.

"With a bit of luck," she said, "we'll have him soon enough."

"And _without_ a bit of luck?" John asked. He didn't consider himself a pessimist, but being around Sherlock meant that you asked about all possibilities, just in case.

"We'll have up to five of him," she answered. "Mind you, if _he_ were doing this, the probability would be of up to five hundred, but with his luck, it would be exactly who he needs in as many copies as are needed."

"Hm," Sherlock said. "I don't believe luck functions that way."

"You should, Mr. Holmes, you should."

* * *

In a TARDIS far, far away, both spatially and temporally, Rose saw a 'Bad Bloody Beast' sticker start glowing. The time machine started shaking.

"Doctor!" she cried fearfully.

"Rose!" he answered, just as loudly, not afraid, but madly enthusiastic.

* * *

In a TARDIS relatively far away in space and time, Donna saw a sticker saying 'Bad Bloody Beast' start glowing just as the blue box started shaking like no tomorrow.

"Doctor!" she cried with more than a bit of annoyance and fear.

"Oh, we're in for a ride!" he answered. "We're being summoned! Hold on tight, allons-y!" Deep down inside, he was quite afraid of what this could mean, but he couldn't let it show, now could he?

* * *

In a TARDIS that was merely three solar systems and two thousand years away, Amy and Rory were hanging on to whatever they could catch.

"Doctor! There's a glowing sticker with a silly message on it!" Amy cried. "Do you think that's what's causing this?"

"Geronimooooooooooo," the Doctor answered, helpfully, as the Time Vortex sucked them in for a rickety ride.

* * *

Three TARDISes landed at approximately the same time in River's thankfully large office, at about three feet away from one another.

"Three," the Professor said. "That's the exact average. As I had expected."

"Isn't there going to be a problem with the space-time continuum, to have them all here?" River asked.

"What? Ah, no," the Professor answered dismissively. "That sort of thing only happens to amateurs. The secret to getting away with crossing your own timeline, and even touching yourself, without there being an actual problem is to-"

She lost her trail of thought as the doors to the three TARDISes were opened and Rose's Doctor, wearing his usual leather jacket, came out, followed by a prudent Rose. Then Donna's Doctor came out, followed by a huffy Donna. Then Amy came out, followed by _her_ Doctor, who was crying out after her that one never knew how dangerous things could get and let him go out first. Last came Rory.

"You," the Professor said, her eyes widening. "_YOU_!"

"Uh oh," all three Doctors said, in various ways, but at the same time.

"**YOU**!" she cried the third time, because the word couldn't be emphasized enough. "You wasted your regenerations! You complete and utter _dunce_! Four, five and _six_, right? You only have seven regenerations left!"

There was a deep, embarrassing silence.

* * *

**AN: **Reviews are always appreciated.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: The BBC owns pretty much everything in this story. Except the plot thing.

**AN: **Do not mess with RL. RL can kick you back hard. I know.

**Chapter 3**

Three hours later, all Doctors were drinking away. They were sitting in a line on a step of a stairway in Professor Song's university, sharing a bottle of something harsh, manly and with so many degrees that if it were water it would be nearing boiling point.

Their various companions were scattered around the rest of the stairway. Sherlock and John were leaning against the wall on the superior floor.

"We're all..." Donna's Doctor said.

"...doomed," Amy's Doctor finished.

"She won't stop," Rose's Doctor pointed out.

"Ever," the three said in unison.

"That is _so_ disturbing," Amy told Donna and Rory. Then she took a deep breath and, considering that she was the one useful person around here, sans River, who was busy hiding all remaining alcohol, said: "Let's go through all that again." Everybody sighed. However, there was no doubt in anybody's head that what had occurred had been too quick and too traumatizing to really experience as it happened, never mind understand it. So, they would try to piece together 10 minutes of interaction in probably a lot longer than that.

"The Doctor is drinking," Donna huffed.

"Technically, the Doctor _are_ drinking," Rose said.

"That doesn't make sense grammatically," Rory intervened.

Amy glared at all of them, then pushed herself into the approximate middle of the crowd. She decided that if nobody else was going to hold an impressive speech to drag them out of this sulky mood, she would have to be the one to do it. "Grammar doesn't matter! The universe is about to end! _Again_. So. What do we know? That the Doctor is at his 11th regeneration."

"10th."

"9th.

The two Doctors who had just said that looked at each other, then reached simultaneously for the bottle, which happened to be in the third's hand. He let it go, not caring who was getting it, and groaned.

"_But_," Amy said. "He's going to regenerate more than the usual times, because of that thingy with the genetics and the orange."

"Phlebotinum Excessus," Rose said, nodded. "I remembered that. And there was something about anchovies and apricots, too. Or was that 'Angeli sent Argonauts?'"

"That's not..." her Doctor began, but then looked around and decided it would be wise, very wise, to _shut up_. There was a time and place for explaining the subtle nature of the universe to his companions. This was not it. "Yeah. Phlebotinum it was."

"But the Professor doesn't know that he'll live on a lot longer than he's supposed to," Amy continued. "Which is why she's off to stop the Time War. So she can find you a wife. Right?"

"Oh, I hadn't gotten that part," Donna said. She suddenly grinned. "I'd understood that she wanted to find him his poodle, it didn't make much sense... Is that why Professor River ran off?"

"Yeah, is she in love with the Doctor, or something?" Rose asked, disturbed.

"River Song is probably the Doctor's future wife," Amy explained.

The Doctor(s) and Rose groaned. She went to join them in their drinking. "What I don't understand," Rose said to her Doctor, "is why I'm not with you anymore. Why _they_ are."

"Rose, I..." he tried to answer, then looked around, realizing he didn't have a clue why she wasn't traveling around with him anymore.

"You're... it became impossible to travel together," Donna's Doctor said, gloomily. "It couldn't work. So we stopped it."

Rose gave him a kicked puppy look. Her Doctor looked at his next regeneration over her shoulder, with a look of horror. The older version of himself saw that gaze and added, "but you live happily ever after now. I think. You had... well, you had a man who loved you at your side, the last time I checked."

Off in the non-mushy land, Rory and Donna were debating the problem of that thing said about Daleks and crickets, which was still a mystery to them both. Amy concluded that it was probably unimportant and that it might have been one of the surprisingly numerous references to old school days that one can make in three minutes flat when arguing through three of himself against an old Professor. ("So that's why detention was mentioned!" Donna had said, nodding)

"Rickey?" Rose's Doctor asked, frowning. "She went off with him?" He made it sound as if it were the last thing any woman could ever possibly want.

"Mickey," Rose corrected. "He's not _that_ bad."

"No, not him. Somebody else. It's hard to explain who, but you'll find out at the moment."

"And everything will work out perfectly," the oldest Doctor said, ruffling her hair. "There you go, Rose! You're gonna be great, I promise."

She sniffed.

"Can we get back to the problem now?" Amy asked, rolling her eyes at the display, after getting rid of the schooldays reference. "So, the Professor's attempt to stop the Time War is going to destroy the Universe because..."

"Something about space-time continuum," Donna said.

"The Time-Bubble?" Rory asked. "That bubble bath thing..."

"Time-_Lock_," his Doctor corrected him. "Forget about the bubble bath. You really don't need to know about the bubble bath." He looked depressed.

"Well, break that Time-Lock and boom, right?" Rory said. "We all explode or something."

"The war spreads across time and space and the evil Time Lords conquer the world," the oldest Doctor said. His shoulders were slumped. "You don't want to bring back both the Daleks and the Time Lords of the last days." He grabbed for the bottle and took another gulp of whatever it was.

Everybody stared at him. "The evil Time Lords conquer the world?" his youngest version asked sarcastically. "I need another drink..."

"There's no point in beating around the bush," the oldest him replied. "You'll learn that when you're older."

"You think that's clever," the youngest Doctor retorted. "When you're _older_? Well..."

"Sincerely, just remember the _ducks_!" the medium-aged one interfered, shaking a fist. "It was the ducks!"

"Boys!" Amy said. "So. Let's get back on track here!"

"Yeah, what was that about the chandeliers and oranges?" Rory asked. "And genetics?" He was ignored.

"So we have to stop her," Donna said. "We don't want the Universe to be destroyed."

"Or a wife," the Doctor(s) plus Rose said.

"Let's go after her, then," Rory said. "Why are you guys... you guy... you guy and girl... people... drinking?"

"That was the Professor," Donna's Doctor said. "Look, you've never met her before, so you don't understand. That's the _Professor_. That's my old teacher. She's strong, she's willful and, as much as I hate to admit it, she's more clever than I. She can fly a TARDIS like nobody I've ever met before, she can travel between alternate universes like nobody I've ever met before and, all in all, she's pretty much unstoppable." He grabbed the bottle and tried to get up, only to stumble and have to stop his fall with his hand on a higher footstep. "I..."

"You're drunk," Rose noticed.

"What? Just from that?" Rory marveled.

"I don't usually drink," the youngest Doctor said, looking at his older self attempting to gain balance. "Oh, dear, I'm such a klutz."

"She was right when she said I'm more trouble than I'm worth," Amy's Doctor said, letting his head fall on his knees.

"I am not!" the Doctor who had just managed to stand upright cried. "I am _not_ trouble! I am an absolute-"

"Bastard!" his younger self interjected.

"And you're a fiery drunk," Amy noticed. "Hey, what's the youngest of _you_ then?"

"I'm fine. Unlike these _idiots_."

"Oh, joy, a sarcastic one," Sherlock intervened. "Well, Watson, it would appear that my faculties as a detective are of no use here."

"But the world's about to be destroyed," his friend protested. "We can't go away now!"

"And indeed we shan't. I was simply saying that in this capacity, I will have to admit to be out of my league. However, there is something that the... _triple incompetence _of the Doctor is forcing me to reveal."

"I'm not incompetent!" the Combative!Doctor cried. "I can do... things. Maths. Stuff."

"We need a Time Lord," Sherlock pointed out. "And the usual savior of mankind is useless. Hence, a new one must be obtained."

"What?" The Doctor(s) said, blinking at him.

"I did not wish to do it, but you're forcing my hand," the detective said, pulling out a pocketwatch and opening it. "I thus return."

All present watched in amazement how golden dust seemed to flow out of the object and into Sherlock. His eyes widened, the irises sparkled with power and then... well, then it was over. All in all, it wasn't as amazing as it had promised to be initially.

"Hello, old nemesis of mine," Sherlock said, evidently feeling the need to announce what the change was in some way or another.

"Master!" the drunk, Combative!Doctor gasped.

"You know," Amy said, "I have no idea what just happened, but the way the Doctor said that sounded _so_ sexy."

/

**AN: **Does this work? O_o *feels a bit weird writing all these characters together at a single time* So messy...


End file.
